Parachute
by Seshat3
Summary: It seems Greg is always learning something new about Nick, but does Nick even know himself? Sort of a song fic but doesn't read like a song fic. This one shot is set in the timeline I'm building in Follow the Evidence . N/G but totally clean.


_A/N: The author of this work does not in any way profit from the story. All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s). __**CSI:Crime Scene Investigation**__ is the property of CBS._

_This story was inspired by the song 'Parachute' by Cheryl Cole. This is probably one of the oddest things I've written for Nick and Greg, but the first time I heard the song I had this image in my head that simply wouldn't go away! I __would encourage you to find a way to listen to it (only not on YouTube as any time it is uploaded it gets sped up somehow until it sounds like a chipmunk singing it.) _

_Reviews and comments are most welcome. I sincerely thank each one of you that takes the time to comment on my work. _

**Parachute**

Greg nervously tugged at the snowy white sleeve of his shirt as he stood in the doorway of the grandest ballroom he had ever seen. Not that he had seen many ballrooms he conceded, but this one with its soaring ceiling and one huge wall lined with gilt edged mirrors must be the grandest anyone had dreamed of. He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing here, in his tuxedo no less, but Nick had asked him to be there and so here he was; standing in the doorway and trying not to gawk at the ornate gold scrollwork on the ceiling, or the delicate crystal chandeliers seemingly suspended from mid-air. The room was softly illuminated by the flickering light of the candles giving the floor a warm glow and surrounding the room in a misty halo.

Greg took it all in and wondered what it could possibly mean; the romantic ambiance was so blatant. And yet, as he tugged the sleeves of his tuxedo jacket down and smoothed the lapels, resisting the urge to tug at his bowtie, Greg found he quite liked the atmosphere.

A noise brought his attention towards the centre of the room, of someone walking slowly, shoes clicking against the hardwood floor. Greg turned and his breath caught in his throat as he saw Nick, looking utterly dashing and handsome in his tuxedo, like something out of a Old Hollywood movie; only far sexier. He was Clark Gable and Marlon Brando and James Dean all rolled into one hot Texan package

The lights dimmed even further and the ballroom was suddenly filled with music. From the first beat a woman's voice began to sing; sexy and haunting. With the start of the song Nick stood still in the very centre of the room, raised his arm and beckoned to Greg, hand outstretched.

Greg hesitated until Nick motioned again, more impatiently. Still mystified but with a frisson of excitement, Greg moved forward to meet Nick in the centre of the room. He took Nick's hand, feeling the warmth radiating from him as Nick closed his fingers over his hand and brought his free arm up around Greg's waist. Greg did the same and stood bemused in Nick's arms as Nick snapped his leg out to the side, head and shoulders following before quickly drawing his body back in; posture perfect as he stood motionless once again.

Suddenly, and before Greg could begin to smile they were moving together; dancing across the empty ballroom, their steps long and smooth in time to the staccato beat of the song.

Greg was amazed. Nick's steps were so perfect, so precise that it was natural to follow him. In Nick's arms Greg was fluid, confident; sexy. He hadn't known Nick was such a good ballroom dancer, such a good lead; as they moved across the floor Greg marvelled at how well they danced together. He didn't even stop to think that he had never been ballroom dancing, that he had never heard Nick mention that he could.

With their dress shoes clicking across the polished floor Greg didn't have to look at his feet. He looked straight into Nick's dark and unreadable eyes. Greg concentrated on the song; lyrics came to him and floated away.

'_Your voice is my favourite sound_'…'_You're gonna catch me_'…'_Just hold on to me_'…'_I won't fall out of love_'…'_I fall into you_'.

Greg caught a glimpse of himself and Nick as they flashed past the mirrors lining one wall. Nick was leading with authority, but they were both masculine in their moves, legs extending and retreating, heads snapping to look from side to side. Their arms and elbows were locked together; bodies forming a rigid but striking shape that enhanced their precise footsteps and tight, controlled moves.

Greg was in awe. Together, dancing like this…they were stunning.

The song began to soften, signalling its end, and Nick swung them around to the centre of the ballroom. Greg found himself drawn closer into Nick's arms until they stood, simply swaying to the music, arms wrapped around each other. Greg sighed and closed his eyes.

He opened them again and found himself staring at the plain white ceiling of their bedroom. Though the music still lingered in his mind the room was silent but for Nick's soft breathing and occasional snore; the lightest of rainfalls pattered against the roof and window. Greg blinked and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly, his mind playing over the dream and trying to hold on to the details.

He could still see the ornate ballroom with its gold embellishments. He remembered mirrors, chandeliers, candlelight flickering over a parquet floor; and Nick, standing with an outstretched arm and beckoning him to dance.

The music. That song.

Greg had to admit the song was catchy, from the first time he had heard it on the radio that morning. He supposed that having it stuck in his head all day had prompted the dream. He smiled into the darkness, closing his eyes and reliving every moment of the dance; he could almost feel his body moving to the beat though he knew he was a better dancer in his dreams than in reality. Still smiling Greg slipped back into sleep, hoping to find himself back in the ballroom and dancing with Nick.

xXxXx

Saturday mornings were usually peaceful for Nick and Greg. With their weekends free they often took time to linger over breakfast, reading or talking or falling silent as the mood took them. A slight breeze drifted through the open window, bringing with it the scent of spring rain. Their kitchen radio played softly in the background while the occasional bird broke into song outside.

Nick was reading the paper, clad in sweat pants and a t-shirt, bare foot and with his legs stretched out in front of him, a plate of toast and jam in easy reach. Greg in his jeans and t-shirt sat with a bowl of cereal in front of him, pouring over a forensic journal, though his eyes more often then not were looking speculatively at Nick. Greg took a sip of his coffee before deciding to ask the question that he'd been burning to ask since he'd woken up that morning.

"Nick?"

"Mmhmm?" Nick mumbled, turning the page of his paper.

"What do you think of ballroom dancing?" Greg asked; eyes on his journal.

Nick snorted.

"No, I mean really. What do you think of it?" Greg tried again, willing himself not to blush.

"It's for sissies," Nick laughed, turning another page.

Greg smiled ruefully and fell silent again, pausing to dig his spoon into his cereal before turning back to the article he had been reading.

Moments later he was surprised when the very song he was thinking about began to play on the radio. He smiled around his bite of cereal, flashes of his dream coming to him as the song played. He couldn't help but notice Nick's fingers twitching to the beat, the newspaper rustling as he did so. Greg stole a glance at Nick's feet…sure enough, they were moving in time to the music.

The song was nearly over when Nick spoke up, eyes still on his paper that was shaking slightly in his hands.

"So," Nick began then coughed to clear his throat, "Why do you ask?"

xXxXx


End file.
